see the world."
His fears eased. She brought his hand back to his lap, her fingers resting on his arousal. He held his shudder of masculine desire in check. The little hellion.
" Constantinople ," he said. "My father lives there."
Her eyes were wide, her fingers moving gently upon him, stimulating him to a simmering current of unleashed passion. He felt battered and bruised, with only one solution to the wonderful sexual ache she did little to assuage with her shy yet wanton attentions. He didn't know how she maintained the act--practiced courtesan one minute, innocent virgin the next.
"Little hellion,'' he whispered, his tongue tracing the delicate pink shell of her ear. She purred for him.
His heart stopped.
"I thought I was your angel."
"Not when you toy with me and play games at my expense."
She looked at him with questioning eyes.
"You know exactly what you're about."
Her tempting pink tongue moistened her lips, her lashes lowered and she moved closer to him. Through her white shirt he could see the rosy tips of her breasts, could almost taste their sweetness.
"Of course I do," she admitted. "I mean to seduce you."
"And you're doing a fine job of it."
Angela ran her finger down the deep vee of his shirt. He'd tucked the length into his pants but had not buttoned it. Her fingers touched the top of his pants. He throbbed beneath the fabric, longing for her and her pleasure-drenched warmth.
Allah, why had he decided to wait for feather pillows? This little wanton did not need wooing. She needed hot and unbridled carnal delights. She could teach the women in his father's harem a few tricks of her own.
She ran her fingernail back to his throat, his muscles tensing in ardent anticipation of a sensual act that wasn't yet to be.
"Then I'll have to make sure you receive your just deserts."
He nipped her ear lightly. Without hesitation he leaned down, his mouth closing over her nipple, and through the white linen he suckled and teased. He ravished her breast with his teeth then turned to the other one.
He delighted in the sounds she made and the raw, primitive thrusting of her hips against his own. Covering her with his body, he let her softness ease him. There were ways to make her purr with sexual anticipation. He would do all that then he would watch her climax. He wanted to see her eyes at the moment her muscles spasmed and he brought her to the ultimate physical release.
"Little mistress mine, you'll melt in my hands."
Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt and teased his male nipples; her nails scraped across his flesh to the line of his pants again and again.
Her nails moved back and forth.
Her shirt ripped, buttons flying from their fastenings and scattering on the ground.
"Alexi."
His name on her lips rilled him. "Easy," he whispered. "I'm going to make you soar on the wings of the storm. Just hold on for the ride, sweet angel."
In seconds she lay naked beneath him. Her breasts were perfect, her waist narrow and her hips widely feminine. The soft expanse of curls at the apex of her thighs begged for his touch.
When his fingers dipped into her soft recesses, she jerked, her eyes widening.
"Alexi!"
She sounded panicked.
"Hush," he said, and kissed her lips, easing his tongue inside her mouth. His finger followed suit more intimately in her warm sheath.
Allah, but she was hot and tight.
He found the small bud of her wildest desire, deep in her feminine folds, and caressed her, her hips moving in rhythm with him. One with her at this moment, he understood her most urgent needs and granted her every wish.
She cried out in little mews and purrs. Even though she tried to speak, only one coherent word passed her lips. "Alexi..." she said again and again. The sound satisfied him.
And then not even his name passed her lips. She writhed against his hand, making sounds of
His fears eased. She brought his hand back to his lap, her fingers resting on his arousal. He held his shudder of masculine desire in check. The little hellion.
" Constantinople ," he said. "My father lives there."
Her eyes were wide, her fingers moving gently upon him, stimulating him to a simmering current of unleashed passion. He felt battered and bruised, with only one solution to the wonderful sexual ache she did little to assuage with her shy yet wanton attentions. He didn't know how she maintained the act--practiced courtesan one minute, innocent virgin the next.
"Little hellion,'' he whispered, his tongue tracing the delicate pink shell of her ear. She purred for him.
His heart stopped.
"I thought I was your angel."
"Not when you toy with me and play games at my expense."
She looked at him with questioning eyes.
"You know exactly what you're about."
Her tempting pink tongue moistened her lips, her lashes lowered and she moved closer to him. Through her white shirt he could see the rosy tips of her breasts, could almost taste their sweetness.
"Of course I do," she admitted. "I mean to seduce you."
"And you're doing a fine job of it."
Angela ran her finger down the deep vee of his shirt. He'd tucked the length into his pants but had not buttoned it. Her fingers touched the top of his pants. He throbbed beneath the fabric, longing for her and her pleasure-drenched warmth.
Allah, why had he decided to wait for feather pillows? This little wanton did not need wooing. She needed hot and unbridled carnal delights. She could teach the women in his father's harem a few tricks of her own.
She ran her fingernail back to his throat, his muscles tensing in ardent anticipation of a sensual act that wasn't yet to be.
"Then I'll have to make sure you receive your just deserts."
He nipped her ear lightly. Without hesitation he leaned down, his mouth closing over her nipple, and through the white linen he suckled and teased. He ravished her breast with his teeth then turned to the other one.
He delighted in the sounds she made and the raw, primitive thrusting of her hips against his own. Covering her with his body, he let her softness ease him. There were ways to make her purr with sexual anticipation. He would do all that then he would watch her climax. He wanted to see her eyes at the moment her muscles spasmed and he brought her to the ultimate physical release.
"Little mistress mine, you'll melt in my hands."
Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt and teased his male nipples; her nails scraped across his flesh to the line of his pants again and again.
Her nails moved back and forth.
Her shirt ripped, buttons flying from their fastenings and scattering on the ground.
"Alexi."
His name on her lips rilled him. "Easy," he whispered. "I'm going to make you soar on the wings of the storm. Just hold on for the ride, sweet angel."
In seconds she lay naked beneath him. Her breasts were perfect, her waist narrow and her hips widely feminine. The soft expanse of curls at the apex of her thighs begged for his touch.
When his fingers dipped into her soft recesses, she jerked, her eyes widening.
"Alexi!"
She sounded panicked.
"Hush," he said, and kissed her lips, easing his tongue inside her mouth. His finger followed suit more intimately in her warm sheath.
Allah, but she was hot and tight.
He found the small bud of her wildest desire, deep in her feminine folds, and caressed her, her hips moving in rhythm with him. One with her at this moment, he understood her most urgent needs and granted her every wish.
She cried out in little mews and purrs. Even though she tried to speak, only one coherent word passed her lips. "Alexi..." she said again and again. The sound satisfied him.
And then not even his name passed her lips. She writhed against his hand, making sounds of
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